


Two weeks, Two days

by nightvalemeteorologist



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Depression, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 14:10:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4140696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightvalemeteorologist/pseuds/nightvalemeteorologist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill for this prompt from the kink meme: http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/725.html?thread=522709#cmt522709<br/>"Not as angsty a prompt as you might think ;-)</p><p>Matt never went to law school and thus never met Foggy. He's a shut-in, translating books or doing some other work from home. While not depressed he finds life to be a joyless existence. One day he decides enough's enough. He'll finish his last work project (he hates the idea of letting people down) and then he'll end it all. </p><p>Then he gets a new neighbor. A new, noisy, nosy neighbor who keeps knocking on his door. Foggy wants to borrow his tools, his wifi, his sugar, etc. He wants to know if the Thai place around the corner is any nice. He wants to talk about how lovely Karen Page smells.</p><p>Matt's confused but too polite to push Foggy away. Also it's kinda nice in a strange way. He's still determined to go through with his plan... Only Foggy keeps interrupting him. </p><p>Eventually... Well, you tell me ;-)"</p><p>I am saying that I am about halfway down with this story, probably. About. I think. So I decided to share it here while I finish the rest of it. Comments and love help me write. <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two weeks, Two days

Matt is sitting in front of an open window in his living room. Several floors below him, cars rumble by. It is Saturday afternoon and the streets are full of people. If he focuses he can pick apart individual conversations. Right now, however, he is just letting everything sort of hum together. Sometimes the sound of a car honking or a person laughing will call out louder then the rest. It is comforting. At least, it is as long as he is four stories up in the safety of his apartment. Everything gets to be too much when he is actually down there on the street. Babies crying, hearts racing, shoes on concrete, cars screeching. Then there are the smells and the people constantly brushing past him.

It is better inside. 

A loud sound from the hallway brings Matt back to the present. He shuts the window and listens to the sounds of the apartment complex. Someone is moving in next door. There hasn't been anyone in that apartment in several months. Matt takes a moment to absorb the individual sounds and smells of everyone in the hallway. He picks out the two movers and dismisses them. He focuses on the third person. This is his new neighbor. 

The man keeps laughing and Matt cannot figure out why. He can hear everything they are saying, and the conversation is lighthearted, but it is still foreign to him. Matt is getting a pretty clear image of this man through the sound of his laugh and the faint smell of his body wash. 

It is Saturday afternoon. 

Matt has two weeks and two days. 

The deadline for his next work project is in twelve days. The rest are extra, so he can get everything in order.

Matt sighs and tries to block out everything around him. He takes several breaths and finally stands. A shower sounds like a good idea. The water – the sound of it, the smell, the pressure against his skin – usually manages to distract him. He does need to get some work done today, after all.

The thought came to him almost four months ago. He ignored it at first but Matt has never been very good at letting things go. Once he gets a thought in his mind it tends to fester. It just makes sense. He has not been able to come up with a good argument against it. There just isn't any benefit in being alive anymore.

The shower feels nice, at least. 

 

 

Matt is half dressed when he hears the knock on the door.

He pulls on a random shirt and heads toward the door. He knows who it is before he opens the door. He is wearing a pair of pajama pants and an oversized gray t-shirt. His glasses are still in the bathroom.

Usually, he just wouldn't answer the door. He can't explain why he does.

As soon as he opens the door he is hit with a wave of information about his new neighbor. He has been living off of coffee and onion bagels for at least two days. He is a bit shorter then Matt and has longer hair. Despite the lack of showers and the intake of onions, he has a nice natural smell. At least, it is not as offense as most are. His heart-rate changes noticeably as soon as Matt opens the door. 

“Uh, hello.” Matt likes the sound of his voice. “So, I am moving in next door, which you may have noticed due to the banging and cursing,” He pauses and Matt manages a chuckle. 

“I had a feeling,” He supplies.

“Well, anyway, this is probably a stupid question. My internet isn't going to be hooked up until Monday and I was wondering if I could use your wifi? And if so, what the password is?”

“Um, sure, yeah. Come in.” Matt knows his password by heart and he hasn't had anyone in the apartment in months. He lets the stranger inside.

“I'm Foggy, by the way,” His new neighbor says. “Technically, Franklin, but please don't call me that.”

“I'm Matt.”

“Well, it is nice to meet you Matt.” 

He likes the sound of Foggy's voice. It is warm and comforting. “Right, the password. Sorry,” Matt mumbles after an awkward silence. He feels as though he should ask Foggy something, continue the small talk somehow. Instead, he is silently panicking about the state of his apartment. It is not as though it is messy, although he does have work documents spread all across the coffee table. But besides that, the apartment is extremely sparse.

“How long have you been here?” Foggy asks casually. 

“About two years,” Matt replies after a moment. 

“So this is seriously all the stuff that you own?” Matt prickles a bit at the comment but Foggy's tone is lighthearted. 

Matt tries to chuckle. “Uh, yeah. I never bothered to decorate since, you know, I can't see it anyway.”

“I was wondering how long it would take for me to put my foot in my mouth. As soon as you opened the door I was like, 'Oh, he is gorgeous and blind. You are going to stay something stupid. Try not to do that'. A lot of good that did.”

Matt stills. Did this guy just call him hot? “Um, right, well,” He stammers.

“See? I just did it again,” Foggy laughs. “Okay, I'll just take that password and go die of embarrassment.”

Matt's laugh doesn't feel as forced this time. “Don't worry about it.”

Once he gives him the password and Foggy heads back to his apartment Matt sinks onto the couch. That was the longest conversation he has had in months. It probably could have gone better. 

Matt should get at least some work done today but he stays curled on the couch for a long time. He presses his face against the cushions and fails not to listen to his neighbor unpack his belongings. 

 

 

Everything was going to be different.

It is late in the morning and Matt needs to get out of out bed. Everything feels heavy this morning. The sheets against his skin, the air in his room. It all feels thick and oppressive. He feels useless just laying in bed like this and the stronger that feeling becomes the harder it is to get out of bed. Matt rolls onto his stomach and presses his face against the cool side of his pillow. 

He then hears the click of high heels in the hall followed by a knock on Foggy's door. He perks up and pulls in all the sensory information he can. He can smell a soft, floral perfume. Even from this distance he can tell that she is pretty. He presses his face back into his pillow as Foggy open his door and happily greets his guest. 

“Karen! Thank god you are here.”

Matt hears Karen scoff affectionately. “You better not think that I am unpacking all of those boxes for you.” The door closes behind Karen after that comment but Matt can still hear their conversation as long as he focuses on it. He knows that he shouldn't, that this is a gross invasion of privacy, but he can't help but follow their voices. 

He ends up staying in bed much longer then he intended because he can't stop listening to Foggy and Karen laugh as they unpack his belongings. Eventually, he manages to pull himself away from his bed and tries to shake off the sounds of his neighbor. This apartment is not a lively place, which Matt has always enjoyed. Foggy seems to have a brightness in his life that most of the tenants in this building do not. It is both comforting and deeply depressing. 

He stretches. His body is always stiff and tight, especially in the mornings. He reaches beneath his shirt and rubs the knot of scars across his lower back.

Everything was going to be different.

Matt shakes those thoughts out of his mind and heads toward the kitchen.

He eats two fried eggs while leaning against his kitchen counter. He does not care much for eggs but lately he only eats enough to stay alive and it just takes too much work to make food that actually tastes good on his pallet. Matt dumps his plate in the sink and heads to the couch to work. He never got around to getting a proper desk. 

The day drags on slowly. Matt can't concentrate. Work has become increasingly difficult since he made his decision to end it all. Once he finishes this project... 

It doesn't really matter.

 

The knock comes around five thirty that evening. Matt heard Foggy open his front door and walk the four feet to his door but is still surprised to hear the knock.

“Hey, random question,” Foggy starts immediately, “Do you know if that Thai place around the corner is any good?”

“Uh,” Matt is more then a bit taken a back. He hasn't actually left the apartment complex in about six months and he is pretty sure there was not a Thai place around the corner. “I haven't been.”

“Ah, well. I'll let you know,” For a moment it seems like Foggy wants to say something else but instead he just says goodbye and ducks away. 

 

 

Matt doesn't see Foggy again until Tuesday night when they run into each other in the laundry room. Matt is pulling his things from the washing machine and shoving them into the dryer when Foggy shoves the door open and stumbles in with his own basket. 

“Hey there,” Foggy greets as though they are old friends. 

“Hi.” 

There is a moment of strangely tense silent as Foggy picks his washing machine and begins to load it. “So, uh, I don't want to sound like a totally asshole but you are Matt Murdock, right? Like, the kid who went blind saving that old guys life?”

Matt chokes back a bitter laugh at that. “Um, yeah, I guess,” Matt replies awkwardly. 

“Sorry, dude. You can tell me if I am an ass. It's just, I grew up here in Hell's Kitchen, that's why I moved back. I heard a lot about you, growing up.”

“It's fine, you don't have to apologize,” Matt reassures him. At least Foggy has the decency to be embarrassed about bringing this up. 

“So, um, you wouldn't by any change like to grab a drink with my at that bar across the street tonight, would you?”

“I,” Matt stammers. He finds that he really, really wants to say yes. It has been so long since he last went out but bars are loud, crowded, and smell disgusting. He has become increasingly terrible at sorting out the sensory input of the world. “Well-”

“Dude, don't worry about it,” Foggy interrupts quickly. “You can totally say no.”

Matt shakes his head, “It's not that, sorry. I just, uh, I don't go out. I mean, I haven't been further then the courtyard in months.” He winces at the confession. Why did he just tell him that? 

“Okay,” Foggy recovers smoothly, “Well, in that case, how about you come to my place for a drink?”

Matt can't figure out how to say no. He doesn't really want to. 

 

 

“Hey, you actually showed up!” Foggy greets him at the door. It is not hard to tell that he is smiling. “Come on in.”

The apartment is a far bit smaller than Matt's, which as he understands is the largest on the floor. Foggy's place is warm and comforting.

It is also a library of sensory information. Matt is surprised he was able to move in this amount of stuff since Saturday. Most everything is already unpacked though Matt sense a left over pile of boxes to the left of the door. There are two couches and an oversized chair in the living room around a large coffee table. Matt can smell the different leathers of the couch and the special smell of books overflowing on the shelves. Foggy has real belongings with sentimental meaning and history attached to them. Matt has the bare minimum required.

For a moment, Matt forgets himself. He moves through Foggy's crowded apartment with ease. Foggy notices. 

“That's pretty impressive. I can barely get around in here without tripping over something.” Matt wavers on his response just long enough for Foggy to change the subject. “Anyway, I believe I promised you a drink.”

Matt picks one of the couches and Foggy heads to the kitchen. “Liquor or beer?”

“Liquor, please.”

Matt can't decide how being around Foggy makes him feel. He cannot figure him out. Foggy obviously has a full life. Matt is not sure what he does but he feels as though it is an intensive job that requires a lot of time. Matt can also sense the presence of many others in his life. He seems to be both busy and happy. Why, then, is he going out of his way to spend time with Matt? Matt, who is so out of practice he can barely form a complete sentence around a stranger these days. Matt, who failed at probably the only thing he was ever meant to be good at. He doesn't understand Foggy.

When Foggy returns to the living room he hands Matt a much needed glass of whiskey on the rocks and settles into the couch across from him.

“I,” Matt starts. He takes a deep drink before continuing. “I don't really talk to people, very often.” 

“Basically all I do is talk to people,” Foggy responds smoothly. “Comes with being a lawyer and all.”

A lawyer. That fits. “Where do you work?” Matt manages after another sip of whiskey.

“Landman and Zack.”

That is a surprise. Matt tries to cover his immediate distaste. “Really?” 

Foggy lets out a small and slightly bitter laugh. “I take it by your tone that you have heard of them. You can believe this or not, but I am one of the good guys.” There is a slightly tense silence while Foggy sips his drink and considers his previous statement. “As much as they let me, anyway.”

For a while, they just sit together. Foggy refills their drinks after a while. Matt can feel that he has a long list of questions he isn't asking. He is curious but he does not need to know and is content to drink with Matt quietly. After a while, Foggy starts to tell him a little bit about his life – his job, the people he works with, and how he came to this apartment. Matt finds that he enjoys listening to Foggy's soft rumble as he absently tells him stories. 

“Karen, technically she is 'just a secretary' but no one really appreciates everything she does-” Matt finds himself relaxing into the couch as he imagines Foggy's day to day life. He creates a very vivid image of Foggy growing up and working hard to become a lawyer, desperately trying to defend the little guy. 

“Guh, sorry for rambling,” Foggy apologizes needlessly after he realizes how much he has been talking.

“Don't be,” Matt assures him. He can feel that tenseness from earlier start to rise up again. “Sorry I am not the best conversationalist.”

“Don't be.”

 

 

On Thursday night, Foggy knocks on Matt's door. Matt is perched near the window listening to the streets so he did not notice the approach. He flinches a bit at the suddenness of the knock and but immediately recognizes Foggy's smell on the other side. His smile is reflexive. He is only wearing a pair of thin pajama bottoms and no shirt. He doesn't bother pulling one on before answering the door. At this point, he can't see why it matters. Foggy has seen him without most of his defenses so far and Matt isn't going to be around long enough for it to matter. 

Foggy is leaning heavily against the door frame when Matt opens the door. He has a bottle of scotch and two glasses in his hands. 

“Hey.”

His voice is tired, strained, and sad. Truthfully, they haven't spent that much time together but Matt is still surprised about being confronted with a sad Foggy. He has obviously had a rough day.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, uh, of course,” Matt steps back to let him in.

Foggy goes immediately to the couch, sets the glasses down and starts to pour them each a drink. Matt follows and settles awkwardly beside him. Now he really wishes he had put a shirt on before he answered the door. He should probably go grab one now but Foggy is handing in a glass so he just stays put.

“Sorry if this is a bad time,” Foggy says after a while. His voice doesn't sound any less strained. He drinks some more.

“I wasn't doing anything,” Matt supplies. “Bad day?” He asks after Foggy doesn't respond.

Foggy laughs thinly. “How could you tell?”

“You sound tired.”

Foggy settles back into the couch and closes his eyes. “Yeah. Sorry, again.” He takes another drink. Foggy came here because he finds Matt strangely calming to be around. It might have something to do with the fact that he is so far removed from the rest of Foggy's life. He has a soothing and quiet presence. 

“It's fine,” Matt says gently. “What happened?”

Foggy sighs deeply. “It's just...I became a lawyer to help people, you know? Fight for the little guy and all that. I think I am becoming part of the problem more then I am helping.” Foggy goes quiet again. “I'm not sure what I am doing anymore.” Matt is facing him and Foggy gets the eeriest feeling that he actually looking at him, somehow. He is also trying really hard not to notice that Matt answered the door shirtless and has yet to put one on. 

Matt doesn't know what to say. He is really not in a position to give anyone life advice. However, he can tell that Foggy is an honest man and truly does want to do good in this world. Matt doesn't know how to help him. He leans forward, resting his arms on his knees and fiddling with his glass awkwardly. He an feel Foggy's eyes on his back and becomes acutely aware of the faded scars covering his back.

“I tried to save the world a couple years ago,” Matt says quietly. He stares at his drink and listens to Foggy's breathing. “I ended up not being able to walk for six months,” he finally turns back toward Foggy. “You seem like you are doing a better job then I did.”

Foggy lets out a soft laugh. “You know, I was trying to figure out a polite way to ask why you are covered in what appears to be mostly stab wounds.”

Matt tries to shrug it off. “I was also thrown off a roof, hit the edge of a dumpster.” He adds, as though that is at all helpful.

“Jesus, man,” Foggy breaths. “You might not have been going about saving the world in the best way.”

Matt's smile is extremely bitter. “It's what I know how to do. Now, I can't and I am just sort of...here.” He can't move the way he used to anymore. He can't fight. 

Foggy doesn't say anything for a while but his heartbeat is steady. He is thankful for even the littlest bit of information about Matt. He has about a thousand more questions then he did before but he doesn't ask any of them. He refills their drinks. Matt manages to relax into the couch instead of staying tensely perched on the edge. They sit together silently for a while, heavy thoughts on both of their minds.

“Hey,” Foggy says after a while, rolling his head toward Matt. “Do you think whales know about capitalism?”

There is a beat of silence before a bubble of laughter escapes Matt. Foggy joins him and they laugh until they are both out of breath. Foggy is smiling, accomplished. He has been trying to get Matt to laugh like that since their first conversation. Maybe today wasn't all bad after all.

 

 

Matt wakes up with the early morning sun pouring in from his living room window. He is still on the couch, leaning awkward against Foggy's side, head resting on his shoulder. He blinks slowly and tries to move. Pain shoots through his back and his body screams out in protest and he groans weakly. Beside him, Foggy starts to wake. Matt struggles to pull himself off of Foggy and sit up. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Foggy's voice is thick with sleep but he immediately moves to help Matt. 

“Yeah, I'm-” Matt winces as he shifts wrong. 

“Here, uh, let me,” Foggy rotates on the couch and tentatively puts his hands on Matt's shoulders. Matt shifts so he is facing away from Foggy. “Is this okay?” Foggy asks softly as he starts to massage Matt's shoulder. Matt responds with a low moan as he relaxes against Foggy's touch.

Foggy slowly works his way down the knots on his back as Matt tries not to be too embarrassing with the sounds this is drawing out of him. As Foggy reaches a spot near his lower back Matt just sort of melts and falls back against Foggy's chest. Foggy just laughs and catches him. He snakes on hand around to rest on Matt's warm stomach. 

“You are just like a giant cat, you know that?” 

Matt doesn't respond. He just stretches in Foggy's lap with a little half smile on his face. 

“I really should go get ready for work,” Foggy says reluctantly. Matt makes a small noise of acknowledgment but doesn't move. Foggy lets him stay that way for a few minutes longer before finally shifting to get off the couch. 

Foggy stretches when he stands, cracking his back and yawning. “Uh,” Foggy hesitates before heading toward the door. When Foggy leans down and brushes a hand against his cheek, Matt leans forward instinctively. Foggy places a soft kiss on the very corner of Matt's mouth before straightening back up and clearing his throat. “I'll see you later.”

When the door closes behind him, Matt sinks into the couch and buries his face in the cushions. “Fuck,” he sighs, defeated. 

This was not part of his plan.

 

It is past noon and Matt has yet to do any work. He got off the couch to go to the bathroom, brush the stale alcohol taste from his mouth, and eat half a piece of toast. After that he sank back down into the couch and has not moved much since. He is resolutely ignoring the piles of paperwork on the coffee table beside him. Somewhere amongst the papers, his phone starts to go off. 

'Claire, Claire, Claire,' it rings out. 

Matt sighs and picks it up. He has been purposefully avoiding her calls for about a week now. 

“Hey,” He answers. 

“Why did you fire Manny?” She asks immediately.

“I'm doing well, and you?”

“Matt.” Claire's voice is flat and humorless. There is a lot of background noise behind her. Chance are she is calling him from the hospital cafeteria while she grabs a quick lunch. “You have to stop firing your physical therapists. You are starting to get a reputation.”

“We didn't get along.”

“This is the seventh physical therapist you have fired, Matt. I don't think you get along with anyone these days.” Claire sounds tired and Matt feels bad for adding to that. She doesn't need to check up on him but she always does. The guilt is just piling up today.

Matt makes a noncommittal noise in response. 

“Have you been eating, at least?”

“Enough.”

“Meaning the bear minimum needed to not pass out?”

“More or less.”

“I am coming over after work.”

“Claire, you do-”

“Oh, I definitely need to,” she interrupts. Matt knows he wont be able to talk her out of it. “And I am bringing dinner and you have to eat the whole thing while I'm there.”

 

Claire doesn't knock. 

Matt climbs off the couch as soon as he senses her coming up the elevator. He doesn't want to be laying listlessly on the couch when she walks in. He can tell as soon as she shuts the door behind her that she doesn't buy it.

“Hey, Claire,” Matt greets weakly. 

She heads straight to the kitchen, sets down a bag of takeout, and starts poking around. She opens the fridge and lets out a disapproving little noise. She checks the cabinets and closely them curtly, heaving a sigh. “Is this seriously all of the food you have?”

Matt shrugs. “I guess.”

“When is your next delivery?”

“Tuesday?”

Claire sighs again. She shuts the last cabinet and begins to unbag the takeout. “You do not have enough to last that long. But you probably knew that already.”

“Claire-”

“Uh-huh,” She clucks, rolling her eyes. “I'll send someone tomorrow. You need to eat, Matt.”

She brought Italian food. It smells delicious. She went to that place he loves, which he knows is out of the way from the hospital to his apartment. He accepts his plate gratefully.

 

"Thank you, Claire," he tells her honestly as she hands him the plate. She doesn't need to do these things for him. She has been checking on him ever since they released him from the hospital. She stops by to make sure he is eating, moving and breathing. A very deep pang of guilt shoots through him. Matt has managed to successfully block out most people from his life but not Claire. For a long time now, she has been the only person he has actual conversations with. Maybe there are two now. For a little while, anyway.

“Matt, staring at it isn't going to do any good,” Claire says gently after a moment of Matt staring blankly at the plate in his hands. 

“Right, sorry,” He mumbles, trying to focus on the present.

For a while, she just lets him eat. He can tell that she wants to say something but is holding it in, at least for now. She always tries not to lecture him but he can tell when she is not pleased with him.

“I have the feeling you haven't been taking very good care of yourself lately, Matt.” She tells when he is nearly done with his meal.

“I've been fine,” He replies unconvincingly. 

“You do realize “I'm fine” is universal for “I'm terrible, please help”, right?”

Matt feels for a clean space on the coffee table to set his plate. _It doesn't matter,_ he thinks. _There just isn't a point anymore._

“Why did you fire Manny?” She asks him again.

“He couldn't help. None of them have done any good.”

“Matt, listen,” Claire leans in and covers Matt's hand with hers. “Are you ever going to be able to do back flips and jump from roof to roof again? No. Maybe you can't save the world by kicking it in the face anymore. Maybe you just need to find another way.”

Matt lets out a shaky breath. “I don't know any other way.”

Claire squeezes his hand. “It's not too late to learn, Matt.”

 

The knock on the door startles Matt. He is wrapped up in what Claire is saying and the gnawing guilt in his chest that he doesn't realize Foggy came home. Claire is already on her feet heading toward the door when Matt comes back to the present. 

The is a sudden and instinctual need to stop Claire from answering the door but she is already opening it before that kicks in. 

“Oh, um, hello,” Foggy says cheerfully. There is a beat of surprise at seeing someone else answer the door but he lets it slide.

Claire is also a bit surprised. “Matt, you get other visitors?” She asks playfully as Matt comes up beside her. He tries to come up with a quick and clever response but just ends up shrugging and making a sound of acknowledgment. 

“I haven't really been giving him much of a choice,” Foggy adds helpfully. 

Matt doesn't need to fake his chuckle. Foggy keeps surprising him with these sudden and unexpected blinks of joy and amusement. He isn't sure how he does it. 

“He is kind of like a stray cat, that way,” Matt offers. He feels a flush of pride at Foggy's laugh.

“Well,” The amusement in Claire's voice grates on Matt but he tries to ignore it. “I guess I am done here,” She heads into the kitchen to grab up her bags before returning briskly to the door. “You'll have fresh groceries in the morning and you better eat them.” She is keeping her voice light because of the new company but he can tell that she means it. 

There is a strange feeling in the air when Claire leaves. The silence is tense in a way it hasn't been with Foggy before.

“She is really pretty,” Foggy chimes in.

“I had a feeling she might be,” Matt tries to joke.

“So, I know that you don't leave the apartment but would you go as far as say, the roof? Or is that a touchy place for you to, what with the...falling off of one. This plan seemed a lot better five minutes ago.”

Matt can't help but laugh at Foggy's fumbling. “The roof is fine, actually. It wasn't this roof, anyway. It was four buildings over... But, uh, why?”

“Well, I want to ask you out on a date but seeing as neither one of us has a particularly romantic apartment, I figured the roof would be the next best thing.”

Matt's brain immediately lights up with a thousand reasons to say no. He absolutely cannot say yes, that much is sure. There is an uncountable list of reasons why he cannot say yes to Foggy right now. It would be cruel. Foggy's easy presence and humor hasn't changed his plans. Won't change his plans. Spending more time with him, especially in the way that he is asking, is just unkind.

“Yeah, that, that sounds nice,” Matt finds himself saying instead. 

He doesn't need his abilities to tell that Foggy is grinning. He had been really nervous about Matt's answer and his rush of relief is palpable. “Great, well, I'll come get you tomorrow night then. 'Pick you up' around seven thirty?”

“Sure,” Matt agrees. His cheeks are warm with a blush he does not want to admit to. 

“Good. I will see you tomorrow. I better leave now, don't wanna ruin the evening with over exposure.” There is a brief pause while Foggy considers some form of physical contact but ultimately decides against it. “Until tomorrow,” He says.

“Until tomorrow,” Matt agrees.

He shuts the door behind Foggy and leans against it heavily, gripping the door knob tightly. His heart his beating rapidly and each breath is short and hard. “Shit,” he says softly.

 

The sounds of the morning start slowly. For Matt, no time of day is silent. The night holds a lot of sounds that the day does not. Nocturnal animals scurrying about, people who rarely come out during the day, crimes that he can no longer stop. The quietest part of the day is right before dawn. Usually, Matt can get a few hours of sleep in the early hours of the morning. Not today. He has been laying under his silk sheets all night, eye closed and telling himself to sleep. The next thing he knows, the city is waking up. Markets are opening, people are crawling out of their apartments to begin their daily commute. Matt shoves his head under his pillow, suppressing the urge to scream.

He has spent most of the night trying not to listen to Foggy in his apartment but has not been very successful. Foggy was up late brimming with excitement but he managed to fall asleep a little past one. Matt is exceedingly jealous. Foggy wakes up around nine. That is incredibly difficult to ignore.

By nine, a lot of the apartment complex is waking up and starting their days. But Foggy stands out among the masses. He started to wake up around six thirty but stayed bundled up in his bed and fell back to sleep. He periodically started to rise and drifted off until he finally stretches out and rolls off his bed. 

Listening to Foggy is not helping. 

Matt's chest feels tight. Everything feels tight. 

Foggy makes himself breakfast and watches cartoons. Matt feels like he is invading Foggy's privacy, which is doing nothing for the crushing guilt he is already feeling. 

He can tell that Foggy is excited. Nervous, but excited. He is looking forward to tonight, brimming with nervous energy that is making him nearly bounce off the walls. Matt can't even get out of bed.

He made a mistake by saying yes. Now he is stuck. There is no way out of this situation that doesn't involving hurting Foggy. He goes out with him or he doesn't, either way the outcome is the same. There aren't a lot of people who come by the apartment. In the end, changes are it will either be Claire or Foggy to find him.

Now he needs to throw up.

There is not getting out of this hole he has dug for himself.

 

Foggy doesn't know what to make for dinner. He is munching on a piece of toasting in front of his open fridge as he assesses the contents. The fridge is packed full of several Foggy approved meals – left overs from eating out, sandwich fixings, and a pack of bacon. Certainly nothing that he can prepare for his attractive, mysterious neighbor. 

He is going to have to go shopping. 

He needs Karen.

It is Saturday so he is lucky that she answers her phone the first time. “Foggy, I am not your secretary on Saturdays, what do you need?” She answers in her typical weekend way.

“Well, that's good because I need a friend. Also, maybe a little bit of a dinner planner.”

Karen sighs dramatically into the phone. “I am going to out tonight so I'm only free until about four or so, I'll need the rest of the time to get ready.”

“I asked him out,” Foggy tells her in a burst. It was the first thing he wanted to say when she picked up but he managed to hold it in for this long.

Karen sequels delightedly on the other end of the line. “Really?”

“Yes. Really. Well, technically. Anyway, I kind of implied that I would be cooking dinner.”

“Seriously?” Karen laughs. 

“Rude. I can cook.”

“I have absolutely no proof of that.”

“I have made you several meals,” Foggy protests.

“You have heated me up several meals,” she kindly corrects. “Fine, I will help you come up with a menu and go shopping. If only because your pleasure will make my job marginally easier.” 

“Fine, whatever you have to tell yourself.”

 

“Okay, so why exactly did you agree to cook dinner?” Karen asks as Foggy starts hopelessly at the vegetables in the produce section.

“That does not sound like helping, Karen.” Karen nudges his shoulder affectionately and he lets out a resigned sigh. “Well, okay, so I want to take him out on a proper date but he kind of doesn't leave the apartment and inviting him over to my place for take out doesn't exactly send the romantic message I want to convey so...”

 

"Wait, what do you mean he doesn't leave the apartment?” Karen picks up on that piece of information immediately.

“Well, not in several months...”

“Seriously? He hasn't left the apartment in months? Why?” Karen has that dangerously curious look on her face that she gets all too often. 

Foggy shifts uncomfortably. "I kind if feel like I shouldn't be sharing this," he mumbles. It doesn't really feel like his information to share.

"Nonsense. I am your best friend and you tell me everything." Karen insists. 

“He hasn't exactly told me. He, uh, got hurt a while back. Like, they thought he wouldn't be able to walk again hurt. He is pain and I think maybe a little scared of the world,” Foggy explains. That last part isn't exactly right. Matt seems more guilty then afraid but Foggy is not going to even begin to bring that up with Karen.

Foggy can tell what look Karen is giving him before he turns to see it. “Foggy,” she says in a tone that makes him instantly regret inviting her. 

"Why do I feel a lecture coming on?"

"I'm not going to lecture you, Foggy. I am just wondering if this is another one of your white knight things.”

Foggy scoffs. "I don't have a white knight thing. Why does everyone always say that?"

"Let's see, there was that girl back in college who you fell for while she was in the middle of a total mental break down. There was that girl Jade, with Lupus. Micheal was disowned for being gay and was extremely repressed about the whole thing, Sam was cheating on his abusive girlfriend with you-” 

"Okay, god, stop. You are making me sound like a creep. And your dating history is not that much better. And most of those were years ago."

“First of all, the most well adjusted person you have ever dated is Marci," Foggy groans loudly at that but Karen just keeps talking, “And I am not saying you are a creep. Far from it. You like to help people, you care about them. I also think, sometimes, you focus a little too much on helping them and a little less on actually, you know, dating them.”

"Why did I ask for your help again?"

"My help comes with life advice. You know that."

Foggy sighs hopelessly. "I am not... I mean, yeah, I've done that, but Matt is different. Plus, I've idolized him since I was ten-”

“Back up a second. What?" 

"Oh, did I not mention that part? I swear I mentioned that part. My neighbor is Matt fucking Murdock."

"Am I supposed to know who that is?"

"Matt Murdock, hero if hells kitchen, son of Battlin' Jack Murdock."

"I didn't grow up here, remember. My knowledge of neighborhood lore is not as strong as yours."

"I swear I have told you this story before. When he was a kid he pushed an old man out of the way of a car accident, got some weird shit splashed in his eyes and went blind. His dad was a local boxer, killed for not throwing a match. Seriously, I have told you this story." 

"Let me get this straight, you asked out a blind shut in with a back injury who you have worshiped since you were ten?"

"Words can hurt, Karen.”

Karen holds her hands up in defense, “Just making sure I understand the situation fully,” she explains.

"Well could yo do that while coming up with a menu? Because I still have no idea what to make." 

 

 

Matt managed to move from the bed to his windowsill sometime past noon. He is leaning heavily against the wall, eyes shut. The window is swung open wide and there is a pleasant breeze on his skin. The city is wide awake now. There is a mobile hotdog cart parked outside of the apartment. The smell of stale hotdog water and twenty different kinds of sub par meat is mildly sickening. There is a couple waking down the street trying not to bring attention to the argument they are clearly having. A child is tugging on her mom's arm and begging for a balloon animal.

Matt sighs. 

Before, he had a list of things that he wanted to do before...before he can't do them anymore. Now, that list seems pointless. Despite his best efforts against it, his mind is making a new list. It is stupid and pointless. He already made up his mind. He sticks with his choices. There is no point in considering alternatives now. But still, he is making the list. The pros and cons of staying alive. Pros: The way the earth smells right before it rains. The electricity in the air right before a storm. The sounds of Foggy stretching and cursing in the morning. The feather light touch of his lips against the corner of Matt's mouth. Cons: The pain. He can't push his body anymore, can't fight as he could before. There is a gray hopelessness that colors everything he does. His life is a burden to him and those around him. Pro: Maybe Foggy won't see him as a burden.

Matt feels as though he is sinking.

One person is not enough. One person that he barely even knows is not enough to keep him here. It is foolish to think otherwise. Happiness can't be found that way. Not to mention how unfair that would be to Foggy. Matt would need to much from him. He could never ask another person to take care of him that way. That is half of how he ended up in this position to begin with.

Matt isn't stupid enough to let himself hope for anything more. He knows how any relationship he tried would end up. With the other person carrying his wait, taking care of him and constantly trying to reassure him that it is no trouble. He would never truly believe them. It would end in mutual resentment and he would be right back to where he is now.

But he doesn't want to back off the date. It is stupid, selfish, and nearsighted but he still wants to go. He wants Foggy to make him a romantic dinner on the roof, high above the city on a warm summer night. He wants to eat whatever Foggy manages to make, drink wine with him and learn about his childhood. He wants Foggy to kiss him at the end of the night, properly kiss him this time. He wants...

It would be less cruel to back out. He could make up some excuse, avoid him for the next few days. He should put a stop to this now. Backing out now could save Foggy some unneeded pain later on. Although, at this point, any path he takes seems to end the same. Either way, Foggy is going to end up hurt. Either way, Matt is going to end up dead. He might as well enjoy the last few days he has alive. He could enjoy them with Foggy. 

Stupid, selfish, nearsighted.


End file.
